Page 32 of Our Song

‘Pretty much,’ I say. I do wonder why it takes both of them to put the posh cheese on a board and pop an apple crumble in the oven. Are they giving me and Tadhg alone time? Or do they just want to talk about him without me?

When we go into the sitting room, Tadhg closes the door behind us.

‘I take it you didn’t tell them about me asking you to play the festival?’ he says. But not in an accusatory way.

I sit down at one end of the couch and he sits at the other end of it.

‘No,’ I say. ‘They weren’t in that night so I didn’t get a chance. And then I got that news …’

I do not want to think about stupid Dave right now.

‘Shit, sorry, of course,’ says Tadhg. ‘Look, you know there’s no hurry about deciding, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I do.’ I take a sip of wine. ‘I appreciate you asking me, you know. And in theory it sounds amazing. A part of me would really love to do it. It’s just …

’ It’s just that I’m scared. And not just about playing a big gig, though that’s a huge part of it.

I’m scared about taking a chance on music again.

I’m scared of making Tadhg a regular part of my life again.

‘I really don’t want to go out and make a fool of myself in front of …

well, in front of the entire world, basically. ’

‘I don’t think that would happen,’ says Tadhg. ‘Seriously, Lol, don’t you remember how amazing you always were on stage? Everyone noticed it. And whatever magic you had back then, you’ve still got it. Sam sees it. I see it.’

The door opens and Jeanne sticks her head in. ‘Do both of you want something sweet?’

‘Definitely,’ I say, and Tadhg says, ‘Yes please.’

Just as he fit right into the band all those years ago, Tadhg fits right into this new little gang straight away. We’re all talking and laughing so much I don’t realise how late it is until Jeanne can’t stifle a big yawn, which prompts Tadhg to look at his watch.

‘It’s nearly one,’ he says. ‘I’d better let you go to bed.’

We make protesting noises but I suddenly realise I’m exhausted. The strain of the day is catching up with me. Katie and Tadhg exchange phone numbers, and then Jeanne says, ‘How are you going to get home?’

‘You know what, I’ll walk,’ Tadhg says.

‘What about your driver?’ I say.

‘Oh, I never leave him hanging around on-call this late,’ says Tadhg. ‘I’d normally call a car service but there’s no point now. It’s only down the road. And I’ll walk through Marino so the roads will be even quieter.’

‘Well, all right,’ I say. ‘If you’re sure.’ I hope he’ll be okay. How likely is he to come across scary fans or lairy lads looking for a fight in a genteel 1920s housing development? Not very, I suppose. Still, you never know … ‘But can you let me know you got home safe?’

He smiles and says, ‘I’ll be grand, but I will.’ He stands up and turns to Jeanne and Katie. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening.’

‘ De rien ,’ says Jeanne and Katie says, unusually sincerely, ‘You know, it’s been really, really good to see you.’

‘You too, Cáit,’ says Tadhg, and he hugs them both.

‘I’ll walk you out,’ I say.

Out in the hall, Tadhg puts on his coat and says, ‘So on Monday we’ll try our song.’

‘On Monday we’ll try our song,’ I say.

‘We might even finish it this week,’ he says.

‘Steady on,’ I say in mock horror.

‘You’re right, what was I thinking?’ says Tadhg. ‘That would be ridiculous.’

‘Well, goodnight,’ I say. ‘Safe home.’

‘Night, Lol,’ he says. And then he says, ‘Oh, c’mere.’

We haven’t hugged each other for over a decade but now his face is in my hair and my face is pressed into the soft navy wool of his coat.

He no longer smells of Radox shower gel and generic Sure deodorant, he’s clearly using some posh slightly citrusy stuff these days, but underneath it is that familiar Tadhg smell, and for a second it sends me straight back in time and I almost feel like crying, remembering what it felt like to be twenty-one and hopeful, with a future full of musical and romantic possibility ahead of me.

We hold each other tightly for a long moment and then I pull away.

‘Don’t get into any fights on the way home,’ I say.

‘I’ll try not to,’ says Tadhg. ‘See you on Monday.’

I feel slightly dazed after I close the door and wander back into the kitchen, where Jeanne and Katie are finishing loading the dishwasher.

‘So?’ I say, a little hesitantly. ‘How do you feel that went?’

‘It was really, really good to see him,’ says Katie. ‘It was like old times. Except with better food and booze. And we’re going to bed at a reasonable hour. Well, reasonable-ish.’ She yawns.

‘You go up to bed,’ says Jeanne. ‘Laura and I will finish this.’

Katie yawns again. ‘If you insist. Night, Lol. We will fully debrief tomorrow.’ She kisses Jeanne on the cheek and leaves.

‘So … what did you think?’ I ask Jeanne. I put some cutlery in the dishwasher and pick up a salad bowl.

‘He’s very sympa ,’ says Jeanne, and I wish, not for the first time, we had a word like sympa in English. It means nice, friendly, attractive, sympathetic, all of the above and more.

Then she says, ‘And of course, he’s in love with you.’

The bowl almost falls from my hands. ‘What?’

‘Give that to me,’ says Jeanne, taking the bowl and putting it in the dishwasher. ‘He loves you.’

‘What … where is this coming from? Did he—’ I swallow. ‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘No,’ says Jeanne. ‘But the way he talked to you, smiled at you, the way he looked at you, it wasn’t like the way he was with me and even Katie. He was so … happy you were there.’

I let out a sigh. So that’s all she meant. Ridiculous to get my hopes up, even for a second. ‘Jeanne, you didn’t see him in college. He was always like that with me. He treats me exactly the same way now as he did then. Seriously, it doesn’t mean anything.’

‘It looks like it means something,’ says Jeanne.

‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s why I thought he might like me back then. But believe me, I was wrong.’

As I go upstairs, I remind myself there’s no real reason to think Tadhg’s feelings for me have changed since 2003.

But I break my no-phone-in-the-bedroom rule and take mine upstairs, just in case Tadhg takes me at my word and messages me to say he’s got home.

I’m just getting into bed when my phone pings and there it is.

Tadhg : As promised: proof of life. I survived my trek through the mean streets of Marino! Thanks for a really good night.

I’m still staring at it when my phone pings again.

Jeanne has sent me a photo. She must have taken it earlier this evening from the doorway of the sitting room.

It shows me sitting on one end of the sofa, doubled over laughing.

Tadhg is sitting at the other end, leaning forward, elbows on knees, looking at me with such affection that it takes my breath away just for a second, knowing he looked at me like that when I wasn’t looking at him.

And despite everything, despite the fact that I learned a long time ago that I definitely can’t trust my instincts or my hope when it comes to Tadhg, I fall asleep hoping that Jeanne is right.

Then I wake up and see the texts.